


okay + a difference of opinion

by impossiblepluto



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e21 Wind + Water, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016), post mission body checks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22350481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto
Summary: A post-credit scene from 2x21 Wind + Water. A Mac and Jack moment of comfort on their way to the next mission.
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 152





	okay + a difference of opinion

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from an anonymous tumblr buddy:  
> "i don't really seem them too often any more but it used to be really popular: post mission body checks? would you maybe write one?"
> 
> Oh, that is a favorite trope! (... I say that about everything...) Hope this fits what you were hoping for.
> 
> Thank you to Kailene for helping me out with the title! (and watch for her fantastic upcoming fic)
> 
> First finished fic of 2020! Thank you for checking it out!

* * *

Mac is expecting fireworks.

Jumping out of the truck with a plan that consisted of nothing more than becoming a hostage is not a scenario where he anticipates Jack remaining calm. He fully expects Jack to chew him out once it’s all over. A lecture that he mostly deserves, and a scolding eyebrow raised at him.

A solid kick to his ribs makes that impending discussion with Jack seem appealing. His breath is driven from his lungs with the sharp pain of another blow, this time catching his abdomen. The force nearly lifts him off the floor. He curls up instinctively. His arms wrap around his middle, protecting his organs. The next blow comes on his right flank. He’ll be feeling that bruising for weeks. 

He’s pulled from the floor by his hair. Can’t stop the autonomic response of tears in his eyes from the pain prickling on his scalp. He swallows convulsively, neck exposed, on his knees, pulled back so far that his precarious balance puts more pressure on his head.

Jack is going to rant. Probably yell a little. Definitely scold while his gun calloused hands will search Mac’s body for injury. Running across bruised ribs and while Mac will protest and tease and feign annoyance he’ll submit to Jack’s ministrations. Giving up control for a few minutes and letting Jack take over.

Once Mac figures out how to make himself indispensable to these bank robbers that is, because otherwise, he’s not making ex-fill. They’re going to kill him. Leave his body lying on the bank lobby floor with a bullet between his eyes. 

Even Jack can’t rescue him from that. 

And Jack will never forgive him if he gets himself killed. 

He shoves away the tendril of fear, and pushes aside the pain from another blow that steals his breath, leaves him gasping. He needs to buy himself some time. Save some hostages, keep the attention on himself. If SWAT comes through the doors, guns blazing, people are going to die. He needs to get the bank robbers away from civilians, out in the open where the police can take care of them without risking more lives.

He just wasn’t expecting to make himself so indispensable that the robbers decide it’s worth the risk to take him with them. This was not part of the negotiations.

Improvising is his skill set. His team has grown so used to him pulling off the impossible, he forgets sometimes the awe that some of his hail Mary miracles inspire with those who aren’t used to him. While burning a hole through a concrete floor with a counterfeit money marker is a typical Tuesday for Mac and the rest of Team Improvise, he just opened a whole new realm of possibilities for these incompetent bank robbers. They have no plans to leave him behind with the other hostages, not when he can work miracles. Their eyes fill with greed as they envision a world where he masterminds elaborate bank plots and heist and they are going to get rich quick by using his mind. 

And they're gonna need a miracle to get off the island. 

So, Mac is definitely expecting fireworks when Jack catches up to them, guns blazing, stopping Mac from taking a bullet to the back. 

He flinches when the sound of gunfire reverberates. He ducks, expecting a searing pain as his chest explodes outward with a spatter of blood like something out of those alien movies Jack likes so much. 

Or worse, empty, unending darkness sweeping over him.

But his hand comes away from his chest clean. 

Jack hangs out the window of Carlos’ truck in a move that would have him yelling at Mac for pulling the same stunt. Sirens of the trailing police cars screaming. 

“Show me those hands, scumbag,” Jack orders leaping from the vehicle. His gun trained on the robbers but his eyes flicking to Mac. 

As soon as the Puerto Rican police secure the armed robbers, Jack heads for Mac’s side.

Mac smiles ruefully to himself. Now that he’s safe, Jack will unleash a tongue lashing or at the very least, since this is far from the worst thing Jack has watched him do, a snarky scolding.

And he's surprised when it doesn't come. 

“You okay, man?” Jack asks, brow furrowed and eyes scanning Mac head to toe.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Mac lies, slowing his breathing and his racing heart. It’s not a lie. He is fine. No bullet holes and in one piece. 

If he's honest, he’s a little concerned, because Jack is surprisingly calm. 

Teasing and flirting with Carlos’ mother-in-law, when they bring him back to the house. Gratefully accepting the fresh pasteles and hugs before they made their way to their ex-fil flight. 

Not even a sarcastic comment as Matty briefs them on the next mission after take off. As Matty signs off, a long slow look passes between Riley, Bozer, and Jack.

 _And here it comes_ , Mac thinks. Jack waited for the privacy of the jet to ream him out.

Bozer gives Mac a sympathetic look as Riley nudges him up the aisle to a pair of seats conspicuously away from Mac and Jack. Two heads bent over her laptop, studiously engrossed in memes or movies to give the pair some privacy.

Mac moves to stand. 

Jack’s hand claps Mac’s shoulder. “Why don’t you sit back down there, hoss.” It’s not a request as Jack crosses his arms and leans against the seatback across the aisle. 

Mac feels like a specimen under a microscope when he glances up at Jack. Pinned to a slide and exposed. 

"Got anything you want to tell me?" Jack asks.

Mac frowns as though he's puzzling through Jack's meaning.

“See, cause Carlos mentioned that the bank robbers really started wailing on one of the hostages. He seemed to think that might have been you. But you and I, we have a bargain, you tell me when someone is beating on you and I trust you to tell me if you’re hurting, so maybe it was blood loss and a bullet wound making Carlos confused?” 

“They weren’t happy when I released a couple hostages.”

Jack nods. “And how not happy were they?”

A rueful smile crosses Mac’s lips as he looks up at Jack. “Pretty pissed off, actually.” 

“And of course, they knew you were the troublemaker of the group,” Jack says sliding into the seat next to Mac.

“I went in there to save the hostages, not to get them killed. They would have started shooting if I didn't confess."

Jack closes his eyes. He turns his head half-away, jaw clenched. "And you didn't think that maybe they'd just shoot you for causing trouble?"

"I did consider the risks, Jack. I didn't think they would shoot to kill. They were bank robbers, not murderers."

Jack breathes deeply for a breath, two, then turns back. Gentle hands catch Mac’s chin and he peers into blue eyes. “Did you hit your head?” 

Mac blinks at the sudden switch. “Sort of…” Mac mumbles. He doesn’t pull his head away. 

Jack grunts, fumbling through his pocket with one hand, the second remaining on Mac’s chin, pulling out his cellphone and flicking on the flashlight. Shining the light into Mac’s eyes, watching for his pupils' reactions. 

“I don’t think I have a concussion. Nothing feels foggy,” Mac offers. "I don't even have a headache."

Dropping the cellphone, Jack runs his fingers through Mac’s hair, skimming along his skull. 

Mac tenses at the feeling of hands in his hair. 

“Something hurtin’?” Jack reads Mac’s face like a book.

“He just... grabbed my hair to control my movements,” Mac says. He shrugs trying to act like it’s not bothering him. Like anger isn’t flooding him that a dumb thug can taint an action that Mac finds comforting, Jack’s habit of carding a hand through his hair when he’s sick or injured. “Guess I’m still twitchy.” 

Jack isn’t hiding his anger at the idea of someone laying a hand on Mac. “Anything else making you twitchy?”

“It’s just bruises, Jack. I’m… I’ll be fine.” 

“You want to go ahead and open up your shirt?” Jack asks as if Mac has a choice. 

Grateful for something to focus on, Mac slowly unbuttons his plaid shirt. He tries not to replay the moments inside the bank, on the floor, boots heading for his torso. In the van, cuffed on the side of the head to get him to drive, running from the bank robbers, sure that he’d feel a bullet at any moment.

He takes a slow breath, glances up at Jack's worried eyes and pushes aside the material, leaning back to rest against the seat.

“Still feeling cold?” Jack asks with a smile while he gently raises the hem of the white t-shirt underneath. “Who wears this many layers in Puerto Rico?”

“People who spent the night trapped in a freezer,” Mac retorts, the words are clipped as warm hands probe at his bruised ribs. 

"People who are too skinny and need to put some meat on their bones," Jack grumbles. His hands sliding across Mac's belly, assessing and examining for signs of internal bleeding. Reddened shoe impressions and faint bruising across his torso.

Mac jumps when Jack’s fingers move around to his back and poke at the start of a bruise over his flank, “It’s just tender,” he promises quickly before Jack can ask.

Jack hums as he prods again, Mac more prepared for the ache this time. “You passing any blood?” 

“No,” Mac assures, then pauses. “I haven’t gone yet, but I’ll watch for it. I don't think it's that bad.” He glances as Jack’s worried face as he pushes his t-shirt back into place and starts redoing the buttons. “You’re not following me into the bathroom.”

Jack smiles, but doesn’t comment one way or the other. “Alright, real talk, you up for jumping right into another mission?”

Mac forces himself to take a breath before immediately answering. Gauging the stiffness of his muscles and the soreness of bruises. “Yeah, I think so.”

“You sure? Cause we can tell Matty what she can do with this mission. We can consult from the War Room or medical if you aren’t.”

“No. I’m good. I can do this. I’d tell you if I couldn’t.”

Another thoughtful hum from Jack. 

Mac raises an eyebrow.

“No, I mean, you say you’d tell me, but your track record with that ain’t great.”

Mac sputters. "I haven't... I'd tell you... I would never put you or the team in danger.”

“No, you wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize Riley or Bozer or even me, but somehow you never manage to include yourself in that promise.” 

Mac sighs. The lecture he’s been waiting for since his rescue. 

“You know, you’re the smartest guy I’ve ever met, right?”

Mac shrugs, “well…”

“Of course you know that. You can look at a heap of junk and build yourself a flux capacitor,” Jack says, fingers curling around Mac’s wrist and checking his pulse, just to be sure that he’s not missing anything in his assessment of his partner before they get too far into this in-fil flight. He will turn this plane around if he gets even a whisper that Mac isn't as okay as he appears. “And I know that sometimes that big brain of yours gets revving and you can’t wait for the rest of us to catch up as you make the hyperjump from point A to point Q,” Jack gestures, hands flailing in illustrations of his words. 

Mac smiles. “Back to the Future and Star Wars, in one lecture.”

“Don’t distract me,” Jack points a finger at Mac. “This is too important.”

“I had a limited window. I couldn’t risk missing it by taking the time to explain my plan.”

“Did ya actually have a plan to explain?”

Mac shrugs again, biting his lip at the answer he knows Jack won't like.. “Get the hostages out. Save Carlos.”

And he's right. Jack blows out a frustrated breath. “I respect you, Mac, your skill set, that big brain of yours that comes up with plans no one else would ever see coming. I’m not trying to tell you to stop your spur of the moment improvising. It’s just too much a part of who you are, and you're too good at what you do to think it's anything but skill. But it’s a whole lot easier watchin’ ya run head first into danger with just a knife an’ twelve percent of a plan when I’m there to watch your back.”

“My entry point was the men’s room. Finding two people in there would have been suspicious.” 

Jack shrugs. “Maybe I just wanted to make sure my buddy wasn’t pissing blood.”

“Oh my gosh, Jack,” Mac rolls his eyes. “I promise that I will let you know if there’s a problem.”

“You better or I’ll tell Riley and Bozer and that would be way more embarrassing than just me checking up on you.” 

Mac shakes his head.

"Just reminding you that you've got a lot of people who care about you."

"I know," Mac ducks his head sheepishly. It's still not easy, even after all these years to believe that there are people who genuinely care about him. Loudly. Unapologetically. He feels a warm flush chase away the cold of the freezer and the residual fear of being a hostage.

"Maybe not yet, but one day you'll actually believe that." Jack gently squeezes the back of Mac's neck. "Alright, lecture over. Let's go join the rest of the fam before they think I've grounded you."


End file.
